


Ride This Bronco

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Power Bottom Terryman, Romance, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Geronimo finally gets to spend a night with his idol and mentor.





	Ride This Bronco

“Okay, you got this . . .”

Geronimo bounced from foot to foot. He clenched and unclenched his hands, while each breath came out fast and shallow. The light in the bathroom was harsh, exaggerating the lines of age and the deterioration of time, and a tight lump formed in his throat. A wince broke across his features, as he swallowed it back and tasted a bitter sting of bile. The racing of his heart pounded in his ears and drowned out all other sounds. He bit into his lip.

The sound of classical music drifted out from the adjacent bedroom, where violins competed as they drew to a crescendo, and soon dwindled down into a more romantic sound, while the scent of incense weaved its way through into the _en suite_. Geronimo smiled. The bathroom mirror provided a harsh truth . . . _he was no younger a young man_. . . sure, his traditional uniform – red shorts and knee-high boots – left little to the imagination, but this was different and this was special. Terryman would see him . . . all of him . . . for the first time.

“He wants this. He wants you! You’ll do great.”

_‘Are ya giving yerself a pep talk in there?’_

Geronimo blushed. A sweat broke over him. He spun around to the closed door, where an endless stream of babbled words and half-formed sounds stumbled over his lips, but there was only a gentle laugh in return . . . _‘yer so cute when yer flustered’_. Geronimo groaned. He buried his face into his hands, while Terry only laughed harder, and it was such a beautiful sound . . . relaxed, natural, good-natured . . . Geronimo smiled despite how his eyes pricked with unshed tears. He drew in a deep breath and placed his hand on the doorknob.

“I – I just want to be my best for you, Terryman!”

A high-pitched yelp escaped him, as Geronimo quickly let go of the doorknob. He darted back to the medicine cabinet, where he snatched up some cologne and spritzed it over his vital points, before accidentally downing some mouthwash. A few choked splutters emerged, enough that Terry asked whether he was okay, and tears streamed from his eyes as he struggled to call back that all was fine. Geronimo raced back to the door. He held so tight to the doorknob that his knuckles turned white, and – as he opened the door – he chirped:

“Okay, I’m all ready for you, Terryman! I think I’ve –”

His jaw dropped.

Terry stood leaning against the doorframe. He wore nothing except for a single rose clasped between his teeth, still in full bloom from the bouquet gifted to Geronimo on his arrival, and the red petals only highlighted the flush to his cheeks. The ravages of time were kind to Terry; every muscle was well-defined, with the kiss of a tan evenly spread over still tight skin, and Geronimo lowered his eyes . . . pebbled nipples, the dip of an-almost visible six-pack . . . a tuft of hair . . . a half-hard circumcised member. Geronimo let loose a shuddered breath.

“Like what ya see, eh,” teased Terry.

The rose was pulled out with callused hands. Terry pressed the head of the flower beneath Geronimo’s chin, gently coaxing his gaze upward until their eyes met, and there – forcing a breathless gasp – were two blown pupils and beautiful blue irises. Geronimo swayed. He licked at his dry lips. Terry was a pure vision, just a few inches from him, and if he just lifted his hand slightly . . . _just a little_. . . that soft white skin would be against him. A sharp panic shot through him. Geronimo raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and choked:

“I – I – I just – I didn’t – I mean – I –”

“Relax, ah’m just pullin’ yer leg.” Terry winked. “Ah know I’m good t’ look at, but at least I get t’ have a proper look at you next. I wan’ t’ see if I can make ya blush all over, hear the noises that I’m gonna make you make, and get t’ tell ya that you’re more beautiful than the first filly during a summer sunrise, ‘cause I’d rather look at nothing else.”

“D-Don’t say that, please! I – I’m not – I can’t –”

“Don’t ya know how beautiful you are? I know yer a gentleman in t’ streets, but I just know yer goin’ t’ be the greatest wrestler that ever lived in the sheets. Don’t ya be afraid to be yerself! That means all the noises and expressions and squirms, too!”

Geronimo buried his face into his hands. A low groan escaped him, even as Terry took his hands with a gentle touch and pried them away, and the rose was soon dropped onto the floor, while a cheesy joke about being ‘deflowered’ broke the tension. Geronimo laughed, while rough fingers slid up his chest and rested on his shoulders. They worked at the knots in his shoulders, drawing out sighs and moans and gasps, until Terry stepped forward and pressed their bare flesh flush against one another. It stirred something inside him.

A sting of arousal burst through his groin, especially to feel the heat of that hard length resting against his stomach and leaking pre-come, and Geronimo panted to feel those hands tracing patterns on the column of his neck . . . tickling just behind his ear . . . burying themselves into his long locks of chestnut hair. They yanked. It was a sharp pain, but a shot of adrenaline coursed into his veins and the arousal only grew in intensity.

“Now,” growled Terry. “Let’s get down t’ business.”

Terryman licked at his lips. He pulled hard at the hair, while he slowly walked backwards . . . hips swaying, member bouncing, eyes focused . . . Geronimo was forced to follow, but his erection grew fully hard and his heart raced. This was Terryman. _Terryman_. It was too much a dream, with the room spinning and his vision blurring, and the only thing he could see – the only thing he wanted – was the purring cowboy before him. Terryman let go only when his legs hit the four-poster bed. He slapped Geronimo’s buttocks and chuckled:

“Yer ready t’ ride this bronco?”

Geronimo nodded over and over.

Terryman laughed again, as he jumped backwards onto the sheets. He crawled back until his blond hair was splayed about the pillow, and spread his legs impossibly wide, while his rough hands grasped at his ankles and held them completely apart. Geronimo opened and closed his mouth in rapid succession. He stared at the vision lying in wait. The member wept in earnest, while heavy testicles blocked the hole below with the angle he stood.

He carefully reached down to his shorts. Terryman mewled and writhed to see Geronimo tuck his thumbs into the red fabric, and all eyes were on him . . . all attention . . . Terry would soon see the one part of him never seen by anyone else. He heard nothing over his racing heart, while his hands trembled more with every passing second. Geronimo bit into his lip. The sounds of the world outside failed to reach them in the remote ranch, so that every breath was emphasised. Terry’s eyes continued to fixate on the tent within his shorts . . .

“I bet yer a real stallion,” purred Terry.

“I – I don’t want you to be . . . disappointed. I’m – I’m not –”

“Let me be the judge o’ that.” Terry winked. “Show me what ya got, tiger.”

Geronimo screwed shut his eyes. Every pulse pounded all the harder, while he swayed under a dizzy spell, and the adrenaline coursed and flooded his system, until spots darted his vision and he could no longer stand the frustration and panic. He dropped his shorts. A loud gasp echoed about the room, as the bed shuffled and Terry seemingly sat upright . . . _was he unimpressed? Shocked by a size that couldn’t compete? Disappointed at its girth?_. . . tears pricked at the corner of Geronimo’s eyes, as he forced back sobs that threatened to break.

He dropped his hands in front of his wilting erection. Terry kicked them away. It was the shock that he needed, as he rapidly blinked and finally opened his eyes, and then he saw it . . . Terry laying on his back and milking his erection for all its worth, as his plump lips were wet and parted, and his eyes were so blown that the blue was no longer visible. He was awestruck. He was awestruck with _Geronimo_! A tear fell down his cheek, as Geronimo smiled.

“Holy fuck,” gasped Terry. “You’re like a bull in heat!”

“You – You’re not disappointed?”

“Do I look disappointed?” Terry shook his head. “I ain’t never seen anything like it! I ain’t never been wit’ a man before, and after Natsuko . . . ah got t’ admit, I’m more worried that ah won’t be able t’ take it, ‘cause I want this to be perfect for you, too.  If yer self-conscious, we can close the curtains on t’ bed, but I really want t’ see ya. Yer pretty hot.”

“J-Just so long as you like what you see . . . it’s okay.”

The smile on his lips trembled, as he shuffled from foot to foot. Geronimo drew in a deep breath, while he locked eyes on Terryman, and – with an audible swallow – crawled onto the bed and between legs that spread invitingly for him, until his head was just a few inches above a still throbbing member. He looked over long eyelashes; Terry braced himself on his elbows and stared back with unbridled lust. Geronimo touched parted thighs. The skin was so soft, as he lowered his head and let his long hair tickle at sensitive flesh. He pleaded:

“May I, Terryman?”

“Ya don’t ever have t’ ask permission.”

Terry spread his legs wider. It was all the invitation that was needed, as Geronimo – with flushed cheeks and an audible swallow – slowly lowered his head . . . Geronimo paused just an inch or two from the head. The warm breath pressed against the weeping slit. He licked at his lips, but his tongue lightly brushed against the tip . . . _salty, tangy, bittersweet_ . . . Terryman hissed and threw back his head. Geronimo smiled. A tear fell from his eye.

A few long seconds passed, until Geronimo licked a long line from base to head. It was slow. He curled his tongue around the girth. A low moan echoed about the room, so primal and base that it could easily have come from either man, and Geronimo savoured the taste of the pre-come, as he lowered his head down to the base once more. This time he suckled at the skin and worked his way upward, but carefully used his teeth for extra stimulation, and – on reaching the top – dropped his head to take each testicle into his mouth.

Terry clenched at the sheets, rustling them and wrinkling the fabric. Geronimo relished every gasp and mewl and growl, while sheen of sweat broke over Terry’s chest and every bob of his Adam’s apple betrayed his pleasure, and Geronimo – with swelling pride – chose that second to devour the length to its base. Terry cried out and collapsed backward. He threw his hands into brown hair and clung tight, pulling Geronimo down with such force that his nose was pushed flush against coarse pubic hair, and the head struck the back of his throat.

The noises were constant and erotic . . . _‘uh, uh, oh, uh, ah’_. . . Geronimo strove to breathe through his nose, while his throat contracted around the head, and pre-come streamed out and coated his mouth, as he panted in a momentary panic. Terry held tight. He bucked up and wildly, making it ever harder to breathe. Geronimo held down his hips. He struggled to pull himself up and away, and – when he did – a string of pre-come and saliva fell from his lips.

“S-So good,” hissed Terry. “S-Sorry, you were so – so – so –”

Geronimo retched and spluttered. It took time for him to collect his breath, but – even as he struggled for air – he kept a callused hand wrapped around the weeping member, and kept it coaxed past full arousal and held it right on the brink. The long vein throbbed along the underside, while it felt so warm against his palm . . . like soft felt over hard metal . . . Geronimo caught his breath and licked away the sticky substance from his lips. He leaned back down and suckled at the head, while his hand did the heavy work, and whispered:

“I’m sorry, I – ah – have a strong gag reflex.”

“N-Nah, I got – I got carried away and – _ah_! There! Like that!”

Every upstroke brought a slight turning of the hand, as Geronimo twisted his grip, and his tongue slathered the slit and explored the underside of the head in earnest, as he moaned around the member and sent vibrations through the length. The pre-come came out in spurts, as hands buried again deep in his hair and yanked with every buck. Geronimo kept him pinned by his left hip. Each cry was louder and louder, faster and more erratic.

“G-Geronimo . . . Geronimo! _B-Babe_!”

Tears fell free down Geronimo’s cheeks. He smiled and laughed around the member, while his eyes strove to roam over every inch of flesh, but Terry – writhing and sobbing – kept his head thrown back and hands painfully digging into his scalp. He was doing this . . . _he was bringing his friend and mentor to breaking point_! Terry was in ecstasy . . . so happy, so pleased . . . it was something only Geronimo could do . . . _something good_  . . .

It was impossible to keep from smiling. He suckled and licked at the head, while his hand continued its work, but then Terry finally snapped . . . _he screamed_ . . . rough fingernails scratched into Geronimo’s skin, as Terry arched his back and dug his heels into the sheets. Every muscle bulged and the vein in his neck throbbed. The cry lingered between them, as ropes after ropes of come flooded Geronimo’s mouth and his head was forced further down the pulsing cock until his lips were pressed against his thumb and finger.

“G-Good! S-So – So fucking –!”

The come leaked out the corners of his mouth, dripping down onto testicles. Terry shot out a few last dribbles, before he collapsed against sweat-soaked sheets and every limb fell limp, and his hands – finally weak and sated – slowly fell from long locks and dropped lifeless onto the sheets. He panted. Every inch of flesh was flushed, while his eyes were rolled back and his hair clung to his head slicked with sweat. Geronimo smiled aimlessly and crawled upward, until he was over him and could press their foreheads together, and he smiled bright.

He looked into the blown pupils below, while Terry yanked at his hair again. This time it was to place kisses upon kisses upon kisses to his lips, as if Terry were maddened in his need for contact, and Geronimo could only stare and giggle and smile, as he ran his knuckles down that muscular torso. A pair of strong arms wrapped around him. Terry kissed all over his neck and cheeks and lips, while Geronimo stared with complete wonder.   

“I bet ah look a right mess,” mumbled Terry.

“No,” said Geronimo. “You look like true perfection.”

“Yer still hard . . . god, I’m sorry, ah didn’t mean t’ make it all about me.” Terry kissed him again. “I still want ya inside me, Geronimo. I want t’ feel ya movin’ about, see ya gettin’ all hot and bothered and know that _ah’m_ the making ya feel so good. D’ ya still want that?”

“Can you – Can you – ah – get aroused again . . . so fast?”

“Hey, I ain’t so old that I have to be put out to pasture yet! I can guarantee that once yer inside me that ah’ll be be harder than a rooster in a henhouse! Heck, you better go fast and hard, as I’ll be disappointed if ah can still walk tomorrow. I want a reason t’ call your name, Geronimo, so you give it yer all and I’ll give it mine, stud. _Fuck me._ ”

Geronimo did not need to be told twice.

He pressed his lips against Terry, moving them fast and firm, and – with a moan – slid his tongue into the mouth below to explore every inch, while muscular legs wrapped hard around his waist and pulled him down until groins touched. The height difference left Terry bent in the middle, with his buttocks raised from the mattress. Geronimo snatched at a spare pillow. It slid easily beneath the lower back, raising Terry’s lower body and making his hole more accessible, and not once did the kiss break, as they continued to kiss one another.

Geronimo braced himself on one forearm, while his free hand stumbled for the lubrication. A few fumbled touches ad stray explorations led to laughter, as Terry chuckled into the kiss and soon they broke apart with humour and love, and Terry – sliding a hand beneath the pillow – pulled out a bottle of peach-flavoured lubricant. Geronimo took it with a groan. He buried his face into the crook of Terry’s neck, while his cheeks blushed and Terry chirped:

“If yer can’t find that, how you gonna find mah prostate?”

Geronimo groaned even louder. Terry laughed again. They both smiled, while Terry uncapped the bottle and raised his arms high around Geronimo, and – with a loud squelch – liquid was squeezed into an open palm, as Geronimo tried to hide his embarrassment. He thought nothing of the act, until Terryman hitched his legs ever higher. They locked at the ankles at the small of Geronimo’s back. Terry angled his body to the side, enough that Geronimo furrowed his brow and lifted himself upward, and he gazed down at closed eyes.

“Are – Are you –?”

He licked his lips, as Terryman nodded. There was an intense concentration writ across his features, while his member half-twitched and throbbed between them, as arousal returned and Terry grew half-hard from his ministrations . . . _he was fingering himself!_ Terry bucked into each thrust, while Geronimo grew so hard that his member ached. He slid his free hand down a taut six-pack. A finger grazed against the member of his lover, now fully hard once more at an impressive rate and fast refractory period, and worked down to the waiting hole.

The lubrication was messy and copious, enough that it leaked out onto the buttocks and thighs, and Geronimo touched the swollen and bruised rim, which sucked inside two thick fingers with relative ease. Geronimo pressed a finger beside them. It struggled at first to fit, but soon it worked its way inside with little resistance. It was beyond belief. Geronimo gasped to feel a strong pulse inside, that matched the beat of Terry’s heart.

Geronimo brushed his finger against the internal ridges, relishing in the soft texture and warm throb that came from within, and Terry mewled and purred and pulled at his hair with his free hand, smudging leftover lubrication into his locks. Terryman bucked and thrust towards him with an increasing speed . . . _‘crook your finger’_. . . Geronimo obeyed, while the other two fingers slid out and grasped at his upper arm. He aimed upward. A loud scream escaped Terry, who was fully hard once more and bucking wildly until the bed creaked and squeaked.

“Oh, heck yeah,” shouted Terry. “Fuck me! Put it in, babe!”

Geronimo swallowed hard. He pulled out his finger and fumbled with his erection, as he aimed the tip for the winking hole, and pushed forward . . . he misaimed and tried again, only to miss once more . . . Geronimo stuttered and struggled to control his racing heart, until he heard in a soft and low voice: _‘mah first time was clumsy, too’._ Terry smiled up at him. It was beautiful and warm and deepened the lines about his eyes, and – this time – Geronimo aimed perfectly and was slowly pulled inside, drawing out a long gasp from Terryman.

 _It was heaven_. The inner walls clamped around him with surprising strength, a sensation that straddled between pleasure and pain, and – struggling to maintain a lingering kiss – Geronimo moved slow and deep inside Terry . . . the friction brought wave after wave of pleasure, while Terry gasped and panted against his lips. The kisses were clumsy and sloppy, both distracted from the waves of ecstasy, and soon they could no longer be called kisses.

Terry groaned, as he flipped them over. He sat astride Geronimo, where he took those callused hands and brought them to his chest, and Geronimo – with a bright smile – took the hint and worked at his nipples . . . _tweaking, twisting, flicking_ . . . Terry threw back his head, while he rode Geronimo cowboy-style. He was a vision. The curves and muscles were so sculpted, like a work of art, and his hair was slicked back with sweat that rolled down his skin.

Every nerve was aflame. Geronimo bucked upward with awkward timing, while his blood boiled and his vision blurred, and only a perfect haze of sheer bliss existed . . . _beautiful, heavenly_. . . it spread slowly through every muscle, every vein . . . Geronimo groaned. He knew he would not last long, but it was Terry that pushed him over the edge. A few ropes of come shot from Terry’s jerking member, coating Geronimo’s stomach and pooling on his abdomen, and the inner walls clenched and tightened with immense pressure around him.

“ _Ah, Geronimo!”_

He came. The pleasure reached its peak . . . building, growing, evolving . . . it burst from him in a great crescendo, as Geronimo opened his mouth wide and choked on saliva. The world became a blur of bright flashes of colour. A wash of euphoria drifted through him. He filled Terry with come, until it seemed from his rim and mixed with the lubrication about his crotch, and yet – for all the mess – he knew he wouldn’t change a thing. It was perfect. It was all he dreamed . . . the goofy and blissful expression Terry wore, the beating of his heart . . .

Tears streamed down his face. He was happy. It should not have been a shock to him, but he was truly and completely happy . . . Terry collapsed against him. The rapidly deflating member slid awkwardly from the loose hole, while come leaked from the sides, and all that existed between them was the heavy breaths and random bouts of laughter. He wrapped his arms around Terry and entwined their legs. He never wanted the moment to end.

Even as sleep came, Terry was all he saw within his heart . . .

* * *

. . . Geronimo woke with a bright smile.  

The rising sun broke through the windowpane. A long sunbeam fell across the quilted bed, where it caught at a tuft of silver hair and turned it white, and – as Geronimo rolled onto his side – his eyes fell upon the bluish-violet of his lover. The smile Terry wore only deepened the lines about his eyes, while bringing a blush to his cheeks. Geronimo edged closer, until their noses touched, and his callused knuckles traced patterns on a sharp jaw-line.

Each lock of hair was mussed and slicked with sweat, while a few love-bites peeked out over the hem of the blanket. The plump lips were still swollen, with subtle bruises from where teeth may have pecked in the heat of pleasure. Terry fluttered his eyelashes. A slight crust of sleep rested in the corner of one eye, but he was still perfect . . . a reminder that he was alive, real, and trusted Geronimo enough to be with him at his most vulnerable. The cockerel crowed from out on the ranch, marking the start of a whole new day. Geronimo whispered:

“I – I never thought you’d . . . you’d like me . . .”

Terry furrowed his brow. He hummed low and deep, as he wrapped an arm around Geronimo and rolled him over, and – with a low yelp – Geronimo quickly braced himself with a forearm on either side of a broad chest, while Terry giggled and delivered a chaste kiss. The bedroom quickly became a world of their own creation, especially as locks of brown hair fell forward and curtained away any distractions, and all that existed was the softness of those blue eyes gazing up at him with total adoration. Geronimo blinked back tears.

“You’re so perfect, Terryman.”

“Yer still gonna call me ‘Terryman’,” chuckled Terry. “I had faith i’ ya since the minute I laid eyes on ya, and I picked you to be my teammate, ‘cause there ain’t anyone else I’d trust with mah life. If ya still got doubts, talk to me. Let me fix ‘em.”

“I – I just – I just remember when we fought during the tag tournament.” Geronimo swallowed hard. “I held you back. I couldn’t read your moves, and I didn’t know what you wanted, but you . . . you kept thinking to Kinnikuman. You wanted to fight with him instead, and I wasn’t good enough for the man that I always admired and worshipped.”

“It ain’t like that. Kinnikuman is mah best friend; we know each other like no one else, and we have like a rivalry and trust that go hand in hand, but what we have is _just_ two friends, and it’s because we’re such good friends that we have that sixth sense. That’s all.”

“I – I know that, Terryma-  . . . Terry . . . but I mean . . .”

Geronimo blushed. He pressed his forehead against Terry, where he basked in the warmth that exuded from his skin, and slow – but rhythmic – pecks were placed against his lips, as if Terry sought to coax him into a repeat of earlier activities. A pair of arms wrapped around him, while rough hands ran softly over his back. The quilt slid down to Geronimo’s waist, where it barely protected their modesty, and the cool summer air struck his exposed skin and sent shivers through his spine. Geronimo whispered against those soft lips:

“Prince Kamehame said that mentors can’t be friends with students.”

A low chuckle escaped Terry. The press of his body was sticky and warm, enough that each movement of their bodies brought a sound like Velcro, and yet it was somehow perfect . . . lying together in the bed of consummation, pressed together alone and without distractions, and basking in each other’s warmth. Geronimo felt Terry’s heart pounding a regular rhythm against his chest, while every rise and fall of his breath reminded him that this was their new reality, as their legs entwined and their bodies remained locked together.

“I think he’s right.” Terry smiled and winked. “I think he’s right that we can’t be friends, but that’s because we’re so much more! Do you think that ah sleep with mah friends? Do you think that ah’d let them see me at mah most vulnerable state? I got to be strong for ‘em. I got to be their equal and their every ideal. With you -? Ah can just be _me_.”

“I – I feel the same way, too . . . like with you I’m at my best!”

“Yeah, and I trust you more than ah could ever trust anyone. I think maybe we can’t be friends in the traditional sense, but we can be more than that. We can be everything to each other and more, ‘cause yer the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met.”

Terry slid one hand away from the muscular back. It crept along the sheets, until it finally brushed against a forearm that braced for weight, and then worked its way beneath his hand in turn, until their fingers entwined and their palms pressed together. They shared every breath between giggles and many a whispered ‘I love you’, while Geronimo held tight to the hand of the man that he worshipped. There was nothing that he would change.

It was perfect.


End file.
